


Through The Throne

by AllegroCrescendo



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: #fuck yo ships - wally, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Future Character Death, Heavy Angst, Lies, Minor Adrienette - Freeform, Minor Violence, Murder, POV Multiple, Past Character Death, Relationship(s), Secrets, Slow Burn, and adrigami, dark themes, mainly lukanette, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegroCrescendo/pseuds/AllegroCrescendo
Summary: Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of Chimorly has been engaged to Prince Adrien Riory for as long as she can remember. On the night of her Engagement Ball, Princess Marinette meets a mysterious prince from one of the more secretive kingdoms; Prince Luka Couffaine of Stildore who has stolen not only the eyes of the crowd but the attention of Princess Marinette.With intense curiosity and to the displeasure of King Gabriel, Marinette finds herself wrapped up with the Prince. Will a night of dancing perhaps change Princess Marinette's entire fate? Or will the secrets that lie buried within the castle walls come back to haunt Marinette and destroy her future?





	Through The Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Hellohellohello,
> 
> Allegro here! 
> 
> I know! It's been SO long since I've last updated! And it's Miraculous again! I promise I'll update my BNHA fics soon! But first,
> 
> I'm SO excited for you all to read my new story! It was a brain-child of mine that I couldn't quite get out until my friend Wally (@Wahwalrus on Instagram!) and I took a 10-hour car ride and bonked it all out! So without further ago, I'm presenting to you, "Through The Throne"!

A Night-time Engagement

Marinette sits up as Tikki tightens the lace of her dress. An undignified noise escapes her as her handmaid finishes the lacing with an elegant, dark-colored bow. The young, red-haired girl circles around to Marinette’s front, admiring her handiwork. She offers Marinette a hand to stand and the two walk hand-in-hand to the mirror. Marinette looks at herself in the mirror, sighing and turning to inspect her dress. The skirt is wide, heavy and itchy. Marinette isn’t one to complain much and the dress is her favorite shade of peach, but it feels restrictive and tight. 

“Well?” Tikki asks. “Is it everything you dreamed of?” the younger girl clasps her hands tightly in front of her, eyes shining as her red curls bounce with excitement.

Marinette only offers the lady-in-waiting a weak smile. Tikki claps with approval and flitters off, making small talk as she searches through Marinette’s luggage. Marinette wants to listen but her mind is preoccupied with the sound of the bell downstairs, floating up to her dressing room through the open balcony doors. A pit of anxiety tugs at her stomach as Tikki approaches Marinette with an ornate wooden box. She opens it to reveal Marinette’s intricately designed silver tiara. It was heavier than what she’s used to wearing, but the Rose Quartz at the center of the headpiece is undeniably beautiful. 

Marinette takes it gingerly into her hands and turns back to the mirror, raising her head and delicately placing it atop her dark hair, mindful of the updo that took Tikki the better part of an hour to do. Marinette looks at Tikki through the mirror and smiles. The young girl is practically bursting at the seams with her excitement. 

“Tonight’s your engagement ball, Marinette! Aren’t you excited?” She exclaims with a squirm. “Come tomorrow, everyone in the kingdoms will be talking about your engagement to Prince Adrien!”

“I know, Tikki,” Marinette says with soft laughter. She wraps her arm around the shorter girl, careful with the skirt of her dress. She sighs dreamily. “After 13 long years, it’s finally come! I can remember Papa and King Gabriel emerging from the study like it was yesterday. Who knew such a private conversation would give me a life long partner?” Marinette asks, fiddling with one of her earrings. 

“Well, King Tom for one,” Tikki states very matter-of-factly. She and Marinette share a look before they burst into laughter together. Marinette is grateful that she has someone with her to lighten the mood. Still, anxiety bubbles in her stomach. Tonight is the night she had been thinking of for the last couple of years. She can’t let her nerves get to her.

“Shall we go, milady?” Tikki asks, bowing playfully. 

“Tikki,” Marinette groans. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to be so formal when we’re in private,” she huffs and Tikki only giggles, walking to the door and pulling it open. She gestures for Marinette to exit. With a slight head shake and playful eye-roll, Marinette lifts the skirt of her dress and exits the dressing room. 

Side by side, the two walk down the hallways, their heels clicking and the sounds bouncing off the walls of the empty halls. Most, if not all, the palace servants are downstairs in the ballroom, attending to the guests. It’s not until they near the ballroom do they see servants, hustling and bustling about, carrying trays of food and drinks. Once at the doors of the ballrooms, the guards righten and bow their heads in respect to her. Together, they pull the doors of the ballroom open for the two ladies.

Instantly, the warmth, sounds, and smells of the party greet her. Lively music plays, much unlike what she is accustomed to listening to King Gabriel’s balls. The scent of spices, sweets, and delicacies from the lands Riory rules over wafts towards Marinette as she does her best to resist the urge to inhale. She sees a crowd gathered around the band, making a grand commotion. Before she can investigate any further, she is announced. 

“Princess Marinette Dupain of Chimorly!” 

Marinette straightens, lifting her chin with grace as a gentle expression crosses her features, as she’s always been taught. She descends the staircase to sparse applause. Well, she’s had better entrances, that’s for sure. Marinette furrows her brows in confusion and lets her eyes sweep across the grandiose ballroom. It seems that many of the attendees are over by the band, or actively captivated by the music itself. Curiosity reaches Marinette but once again, she is interrupted before she has a chance to investigate.

“Princess Marinette,” a voice greets her. Her attention is drawn by Prince Adrien’s valet as he approaches the two young women. Plagg is always a welcome sight, being Prince Adrien’s faithful valet for as long as Tikki has been her lady-in-waiting. Plagg bows deeply to Marinette. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Princess Marinette,” he says respectfully. 

He rightens and then turns his attention to the red-head beside Marinette, who recoils with an eye-roll at the valet’s presence. “And it’s  _ always _ a pleasure to see you as well, Lady Tikki,” Plagg says with a sly grin. 

“Plagg,” Tikki scolds with a single look. The valet raises his hands in innocence. 

“If you will, your highness. This way to your throne,” he gestures with an open palm. 

The duo follows Plagg towards the staircase and, in a very unladylike manner, Marinette stares at the growing crowd around the band. She sees people dancing joyously, laughter ringing out from men and women alike. They dance around in circles, bouncing about and the women are lifted into the air by their male counterparts. Those at the edge of the dancefloor clap along to the energetic music. A shrill vielle sings above the crowd and laughter and Marinette is captivated by it. It’s like a siren call that piques her curiosity and if she just takes a step over to it then maybe she can figure out why King Gabriel’s ball is suddenly lively instead of formal as they’ve always been.

“Princess Marinette!” Tikki’s voice breaks her train of thought for the second time that night. Marinette realizes that she had been so captivated by the joyous laughter and dancing that she stopped walking.

Marinette smiles apologetically. “Forgive me, Lady Tikki.”

She rejoins her lady-in-waiting and escort and soon, she’s at the foot of the staircase. At the very top sits three grandiose thrones, the one in the center the most glorious of the trio. King Gabriel sits upon it, posture impeccable as ever with his head held high. The golden crown on his head captures the lighting of the ballroom and gleams, giving him the regal air that always accompanies him. Gabriel Agreste is the picture-perfect image of what a king should be— cunning, driven, honorable. And his kingdom, as well as his army, reflects his grandeur just as well. 

Tikki and Plagg stay at the foot of the staircase as Marinette lifts the skirt of her dress and ascends. Marinette is met by King Gabriel, who rises to his feet, followed by his son. Marinette bows to him, and then Prince Adrien, who returns the bow. Her eyes linger on the prince for a second, swallowing thickly and giving him a shy smile. Prince Adrien’s eyes are sparkling as well, standing straighter and folding his hands behind himself. 

“Ah, Princess Marinette,” King Gabriel flourishes his arms from his spot on the step of his throne. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve last seen you. I trust you’ve been well,” he raises a brow.

Marinette forces a smile, one she has spent so many years perfecting, and nods. “Yes, I’ve been well. Though I must admit, the wait for this day has been agonizing, albeit very much worth every second,” her eyes flicker over to Prince Adrien.

The Prince approaches Marinette, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly before pressing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “Believe me, milady, the wait has been just as agonizing for me as well,” Adrien cooes to her.

A pink flushes across Marinette’s cheeks and she lets Adrien guide her to her seat beside his throne. The throne to King Gabriel’s left is starkly empty. Marinette quickly looks away when King Gabriel’s catches her staring. Marinette sits beside Prince Adrien to King Gabriel’s right, folding her hands in her lap and adjusting her posture. She watches the crowd below, lips pulled into a straight line. She very much wants to join the festivities or even just find her parents, but she is practically restricted to the throne. Marinette shifts in her seat. The collar of her dress is itchy, her updo is too tight and the room is uncomfortably warm with body heat. 

Despite her complaints, Marinette is silent, only speaking when noblemen and women approach the throne to greet them. Marinette is presented with a multitude of gifts— precious jewels from lands of the Bourgeois family, beaded goods from the Lahiffes, smelling salts from the Cesaires and so on. It’s difficult for Marinette to be polite and maintain a conversation when the laughter and dancing are relentless. After a while, Marinette leans into Prince Adrien, who had just finished a conversation with Lady Lila of Riylia from his spot on the throne.

“Prince Adrien,” Marinette calls to him in a not so subtle stage whisper. “What on earth could be garnering so much attention over by the band?” She inquires. Against her better judgment, Princess Marinette stretches her neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the crowd. King Gabriel clears his throat and Marinette retreats into her seat, blushing at the fact that she had been caught.

“It seems to be a Prince from Stildore. Which is odd, since they never accept invitations anywhere,” Prince Adrien rubs his chin in thought. “The Prince has been playing some songs from his kingdom. They’re quite uplifting if you ask me,” Prince Adrien beams.

“Princess Marinette,” King Gabriel lifts a brow, “Does there seem to be an issue?”

“Not at all, King Gabriel!” Marinette stammers. “It’s just that the music being played is quite...enchanting,” Marinette clears her throat, trying not to swoon at the mention of the music. 

King Gabriel’s steely platinum gaze is locked on the party-goers beneath them, but his attention is completely on Marinette. His oppressive energy suffocates her and she should have known King Gabriel would have reacted as so. Marinette grips the skirt of her dress and tries to take deep breaths.

“Remember. This is your engagement ball. Your attention should be nowhere else other than making sure you are available for any guests who may want to congratulate you,” King Gabriel scolded her. 

Marinette shrinks away at the weight of the King’s words. He’s right after all. Marinette must be proper. She’s no longer a princess who can just run off and play whenever she wants. She is to be married to the heir of the Rioric throne and the most powerful kingdom in the world. There is very little time to spend on such silly little things.

Noticing the shift in her mood, Prince Adrien stands and offers her his hand. “Shall we dance, princess?” He says with a warm, gentle smile.

Marinette returns the look and takes his hand, standing. Prince Adrien turns to his father, his hand guiding Marinette around so she too faces King Gabriel. The King has his eyes on the dance floor beneath him still, but his attention is on Prince Adrien and Marinette. “Yes?” comes the King’s voice.

“Princess Marinette and I will have a dance or two. This ball, after all, is for Princess Marinette and my engagement,” Prince Adrien says very pointedly with a brow raised. Marinette remains by Prince Adrien’s side silently. It’s one thing for a prince to speak his wishes to his father, the King. It’s another thing for the prince’s betrothed to express her wants, especially directly to the King. 

King Gabriel seems to consider Prince Adrien’s words, his lips pulled into a straight line. His squared shoulders relax and he exhales through his nose. Prince Adrien beams at his father’s concedement and his hand squeezes Marinette’s tightly. While the King is known to rule with an iron fist and unwaver in his decisions, he holds a particular weak spot for Prince Adrien’s wishes. He is, after all, a father. In Marinette’s experience, there is almost nothing a parent wouldn’t do to see their child be happy.

“Don’t be long. You are to be available for guests who wish to greet you,” King Gabriel finally says. His brows crease, as if upset, and all at once, the expression vanishes. 

Prince Adrien turns to Marinette with a bright smile and he leads her down the steps of the grand staircase. They weave through the crowd and Marinette slips her hand into the crook of the prince’s arm, wrapping her arms around his upper arm. She gives his bicep a gentle squeeze, glancing over to where the party-goers have created a second dance floor. Her curiosity gets the better of her once again and she gives Adrien another excited squeeze. The music is getting louder as they approach. Marinette turns up to look at Adrien only to see that he is already looking down at her with a knowing smile.

“Sitting on the throne is no fun, hm?” He asks and Marinette shrinks away, a rosy color dusting her cheeks. “You wanted to see the Prince of Stildore’s performance, did you not? Come on,” Adrien pats her hand on his arm playfully and tugs her into the thick of the crowd.

“Excuse us,” Prince Adrien announces, authority entering his voice. Those further back in the crowd, recognizing Prince Adrien, begin to part as he and Marinette glide down to the edge of the crowd. Marinette feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on her shoulders as the two of them walk through the parted crowd but she only lifts her chin higher, furrowing her brows and keeping her eyes ahead in a confident gaze. If Prince Adrien is being strong, then as his future queen, so should she. 

The closer they get to the edge of the dance floor, the louder the festivities all are. The music, the jovial laughter, all of it intensifies. A feeling of warmth and happiness radiates from the crowd and Marinette lets it blanket her as a smile splits across her face. It’s a feeling that she isn’t used to at King Gabriel’s balls. Prince Adrien has told her before then when his mother, Queen Emilie, was still alive, these events would be much livelier. 

She resists the urge to surge forward any quicker than the pace she and Adrien are walking. Marinette catches a glimpse of a blue-haired man, bouncing around the opposite end of the dance floor with a vielle tucked fast beneath his chin. Marinette infers that it’s the Prince of Stildore and immediately, she is captivated by the man. 

The Prince is dressed to the nines in a white ruffled shirt and high waisted pants. A gold sash with a plum trim crosses his chest and his forearms are covered with gaudy golden gauntlets. The heels of his brown leather boots click against the dance floor as he bounces around with the music playing. His blue hair is pulled back by a red ribbon, but the fringe falls into his eyes. A silver circlet sits neatly over his fringe with a single sapphire stone at the center of it. Much like the stone, his eyes are a striking blue color and seem to electrify whoever they look at. 

The Prince is magnetic.

As Marinette’s eyes sweep across the dance floor, every head is turned to look at the Prince. And given by the smile on the Prince’s lips, he knows it as well. Marinette can’t help but be one of the sets of eyes captivated by the Prince. She stares at his visage with wonder, admiring the way his expression changes with the music but keeps an overall serene look. 

The Prince’s eyes flicker open and fall right on Marinette. A chill runs through her and an undignified squeak follows as goosebumps dot her skin. Dancers weave the dance floor, occasionally obstructing the Prince from Marinette’s eyes, but not once does the Prince’s intense gaze ever falter and leave her. 

Marinette swallows thickly and squeezes Prince Adrien’s arms, much tighter than before. “Is something the matter?” the blond asks, brows knit with concern.

“N-no!” She looks up at him and smiles, trying to dispel any worry she may have caused him. The two of them look back up when applause ripples through the crowd to see that the piece had ended. The Prince had handed off his vielle to someone and makes his way over to the royal couple. Marinette’s face flushes and gawks at him as he crosses the floor, parting dancers with his confident stride and suddenly the dance floor seems like the shortest thing in Marinette’s life.

There’s a sly, almost Cheshire, grin playing on the Prince’s lips as he stops in front of the royal couple. “Prince Adrien, Princess Marinette, good evening. I am Prince Luka Couffaine of Stildore,” he bows deeply to both of them. “Would I be able to steal the Princess away from you for a dance, Prince Adrien?” The ombre-haired prince shifts between the two. The air of mystery Prince Luka gives off makes the hair at the nape of Marinette’s neck stand. If all the candles in the room were to be extinguished, Marinette is sure Prince Luka’s impossibly blue eyes would glow in the vast darkness of the ballroom. 

Turning to Prince Adrien, Marinette squeezes his arm and gives him an uncertain smile. “My prince,” she shuffles her feet awkwardly. “I am yet to dance with you. It would be improper of me,” she fretted before a hand on her shoulder stops her rant before it can begin. Prince Adrien knows her too well. Marinette blinks and looks up at her fiance. The soft look in his eyes calms her. 

Prince Adrien turns to Prince Luka, then back to Marinette. His brows knit with an almost apologetic look. “Don’t worry about being proper in accordance with the rules my father set. Go dance with Prince Luka. Tonight is your night. Enjoy it,” Adrien says sweetly to her, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Marinette’s cheeks darken and she looks away, clearing her throat. “I’ll be quick, I promise,” she mumbles with her embarrassment. She leans forward and pecks Adrien’s cheek before turning to Prince Luka with a nervous smile. 

Prince Luka extends his hand, to which Marinette graciously accepts, and allows herself to be guided onto the dance floor. His hand, gloveless Marinette notes, is warm and calloused yet still holds her much tinier hand gently. 

“I must say, Prince Luka,” Marinette begins, a touch of nervousness in her voice as she turns to him, placing her hand on his shoulders and keeping the other in his own, loosely. “You made quite the impression over there,” she references his performance with the band earlier. “Not quite proper ball etiquette, is it?” She asks with a small nervous chuckle. 

She isn’t entirely sure what Prince Luka is like, but she’s heard many stories about the eccentricity of Stildore from when she’s sat in on her father’s court. Queen Anarka is a beloved ruler by her people. In fact, Marinette’s heard that the people of Stildore, especially its capital city, seldom use actual money for their purchases. Most of the time, Stildorian markets are run by bartering. And it’s no real wonder why, either. Queen Anarka had transformed Stildore from a modest fishing kingdom to the foremost trading kingdom, all in a matter of decades! The people of Stildore walk around in brightly colored fabrics, with pieces of gold worn by the common people as jewelry and used for chalices in pubs instead of money. The very thought of it baffled Marinette! Yet no kingdom ever dared invade or plunder the seaside capital; Stildore had a fierce navy headed by the Queen herself and they were yet to lose a fight. 

“My people are not for etiquette and whatnot,” Luka says a touch dismissive. Marinette feels her stomach drop at his tone. Had she upset him? The people of Stildore were so different from the Riorinese or the Chimorlians! Perhaps she had overstepped a boundary and-

A sense of calm washes over her and Prince Luka’s hand suddenly feel very warm on her waist as they dance. Heat flushes to her cheeks as she looks up at him. His heavy lidded eyes gaze at her with a small smile curling at the corner of his lips. Marinette feels something tug in her heart again as she looks away, right to where King Gabriel is. 

Her skin goosebumps and almost instantly, her heart begins to race because now, King Gabriel is forgoing his throne and is standing at the edge of the staircase, staring right at her and Prince Luka as they sweep across the dance floor. Yet before her panic can further, the same sensation of calm swept across her mind. Her shoulders relax and she practically melts against Prince Luka, a heavy sigh leaving her. Prince Luka’s chest rumbles with laughter and Marinette is reminded that she is to be married and it is  _ not _ to Prince Luka. 

With an undignified squeak, she straightens and follows him into a spin. “You’re...you’re playing with magic, aren’t you?” Marinette asks with a raised brow. 

Prince Luka gives her an innocent look but bursts into laughter seconds later. “Maybe,” he muses as he looks around at the crowd at the edge of the dancefloor. Then, he leans into her. “I work with enchantment magic if that’s not obvious enough. Music is my main magical outlet, but I can work without it,” Luka looks embarrassed a moment later. “Not that I-...that you-...I-I just…” he sighs. 

“The ball felt so oppressive and drab that I thought I’d liven it up. And then  _ you _ appeared at the edge of the dance floor with Prince Adrien,” Luka suggests. Marinette scoffs and slaps Luka’s arm playfully before she’s lifted and spun around. 

“Excuse me,” Marinette squeaks as she grins up at the Prince. She’s close enough where his scent is noticeable to him. The Couffaines were rulers of a seafaring kingdom, so it was natural that the scent of seabreeze would follow them. Marinette didn’t expect it to be so prevalent, however. And given that her parents ruled over a landlocked kingdom, the scent of the sea was not only new but enticing. 

_ ‘Focus, Marinette!’ _ The princess chides herself. ‘ _ You’re having a conversation!’ _

“Are you implying that I’ve somehow distracted you from your duties as a court jester?” Marinette can’t help but smirk at Prince Luka.

Prince Luka’s eyes widen and he only gapes at her. Marinette realizes what she said and how incredibly rude of her it was! “P-Prince Luka, my apologies! That’s not at all what I meant!” She stammers.  _ ‘Great!’ _ She thinks.  _ ‘What a way to make an ass of myself at my engagement ball!’ _

Prince Luka only smiles at her with breathless laughter and his eyes flicker, looking past her shoulder. In an instant, the same blanket of calm washes over her and the coil of anxiety that wound itself in her stomach disappears. The warmth, while comforting, seems a touch unnatural to Marinette.   
  
“Is that your doing?” Marinette asks. 

Prince Luka looks taken aback. “You can feel that?” Luka asks, tilting his head in question. 

Marinette thinks of her aging magic master, sitting contently in his tower and perhaps concocting a brew. “Sort of?” Marinette squeaks, a touch awkwardly as Prince Luka spins her around.

As they spin, she catches a glimpse of a young woman, about her age, at the edge of the dance floor. She was dressed entirely in dark colors, sticking out against the other ball-goers who were dressed in beautifully vibrant colors. Before Marinette can look any longer, she was spun away by her dancing partner and the music came to a close. They bow deeply to each other, Marinette holding Prince Luka’s gaze. His eyes were an alluring blue color, absolutely captivating Marinette. His plush lips curl into the faintest of smiles as he rightens.

“It seems I have stolen you from your betrothed for a dance too many, Princess Marinette,” Prince Luka chuckles and motions at Prince Adrie, waiting at the edge of the dance floor. He offers his arm. Marinette takes it and he escorts her off the dance floor to Prince Adrien, who awaits with a tender expression. 

“My, my!” Her fiance exclaims as they approach. “You two certainly commanded the attention of the dance floor!” Prince Adrien chirps and gives them a round of applause. He bows playfully to them, much to the scandal of those around them. “Unfortunately, it is time to return to my father. The hour of speech approaches,” Prince Adrien says, half regretfully as he extends his hand to Marinette. She gives Prince Luka one last look before she takes Prince Adrien’s waiting hand. 

Prince Luka smiles at her and bows deeply. “It was an honor dancing with a partner as graceful as yourself, Princess Marinette. May the gods bless the good earth of your kingdoms with fertility and your courts with union,” He raises his head to look at her and takes a step back, rightening. 

“As I’m sure the gods will keep your kingdom joyful and prosperous,” Marinette replied smoothly as they bowed to each other one more time before parting. 

Marinette clings to Prince Adrien’s arm as they make their way through the crowd back to their thrones. “Prince Adrien,” her voice is small as she looks up at him. She meets his emerald eyes and gulps. Being around Prince Adrien gives her butterflies in her stomach even after knowing each other since their childhood. “Thank you for granting me the opportunity to dance. I had a lot of fun. Though I am sorry I didn’t get to dance with you,” she says regretfully in a voice just loud enough for Prince Adrien to hear.

Prince Adrien only waves off her worry with his free hand. “They’ll be plenty of room for dancing once we’re married,” the blond says nonchalantly and Marinette can do nothing but believe the reheased smile on his lips. In only three short years, she’ll marry Prince Adrien and then the two of them would be crowned King and Queen of Riory. As they reached the top of the staircase, King Gabriel is standing on the edge, eyes cast over the jovial crowd. His hands and folded neatly behind his back and his chin is held high. Marinette and Prince Adrien both bow to him as they reach him and stand off to the side. King Gabriel only acknowledges their presence with a slight nod of his head.

Plagg approaches them with a silver tray holding two glasses of champagne and a sly smile. “Nice moves, twinkle toes,” he snickers and Marinette’s face flushes as she takes her glass. She brushes off the comment to face the crowd, tilting her chin up and relaxing her shoulders.

Marinette turns to face the crowd and her eyes begin to scan for familiar faces. She recognizes Lady Alya of Ywala, Lady Chloe, Lord Nino...Marinette takes a deep breath and clears her mind. She can feel the anxiety build up in her chest but she can’t allow herself to succumb to it. If she did, it would eat her alive. She couldn’t allow herself to show weakness in front of all these people. Not as the next Queen of Riory nor as the Princess of Chimorly.

King Gabriel raises a single hand and in an instant, the room falls into a hush. All attention is on the three of them now. 

“My esteemed guests,” King Gabriel’s voice booms throughout the throne room. “First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for joining us tonight in this wonderful celebration. I know Queen Emilie would have been most pleased to see all of you here joining us tonight to celebrate the engagement of my son, Prince Adrien of Riory, to Princess Marinette of Chimorly,” King Gabriel sweeps his hand over the two of them and they offer a wave to the crowd, who politely applaud for the two royals. 

The mention of the late queen fills the room like a heavy blanket. The Queen was beloved by many, and her death had not only been sudden but a tragedy to the people of her kingdom and foreign royals alike. While Marinette had never formally met the Queen herself, she loved her just as much as the others did. Her philanthropy and love for her people were always apparent in the stories Prince Adrien told her. 

“While it pains me that my beloved is not here,” King Gabriel presses a hand to his heart and sweeps his gaze across the crowd. Marinette feels the tug of magic ripple over the crowd, yet it feels different from the magic she felt earlier. This magic is... _ heavier _ , more solemn as opposed to the warm magic that washed over her whilst she danced with Prince Luka. 

“It also brings me great joy to know that our Kingdom will unify with Chimorly in three short years. In three years from today, on Princess Marinette Dupain’s 21st birthday, Riory and Chimorly will forever be joined as one by a union of two royals. The world will see the glory of Riory raise Chimorly from the depths it has found itself in and help it become a much more honorable and glorious kingdom,” King Gabriel proclaims and his words send a shiver down Marinette’s spine. 

She casts her gaze across the crowd to search for her parents. She finds them standing towards the front of the crowd. Her father’s azure eyes watch Marinette with worry. The instant their eyes meet, King Tom nodded solemnly to his daughter. Marinette swallows the ball of emotion that rises to her throat. Beside her father, her mother stands with a delicate hand on her father’s arm. She looks up at Marinette with proud eyes and a confident smile. She nods to her daughter as well, tears glossing her eyes. Marinette has to take a deep breath as she feels tears spring to her eyes. She wishes to have even a quarter of the strength her mother does. 

Marinette remembers the feeling of her mother’s hands in her hair, weaving her hair into braids as she tells her stories of the warrior women from her home kingdom. Many of the people from their court never quite approved of Marinette being given so much freedom. Perhaps it was their way of finding another fault to pick on Queen Sabine for. A Queen originating from a fallen Kingdom, who was unable to bear a male heir. Of course, raising her daughter to be as free-willed was frowned upon, even if King Tom also chose to raise her as so. 

Her eyes wander and she feels her throat seize when she sees Prince Luka, now donning a navy-colored coat, standing behind her mother. It was amusing, to a degree. Prince Luka surely seemed like someone she would have remembered meeting before. Marinette wracks her brain for any memory at all of Prince Luka and all the balls, events, and ceremonies she has ever been forced to attend blur in her mind.

Marinette’s eyes refocus on Prince Luka. The Prince is looking to the left of her, seemingly focused on something with a small, content smile.  _ It’s a nice smile _ , Marinette thinks. She watches as two other women approach him. She recognizes one as the girl she had spotted on the edge of the dancefloor. Now that Marinette isn’t dancing around, she can get a clear view of the girl. She looks to be about Marinette’s age if not a bit younger. Her dark hair was braided and tossed over her left shoulder with her fringe similarly falling over her eyes. She wears a flowing concord-colored gown with a black corset hugging her waist. The most stunning part of the outfit was perhaps the silver jewel-encrusted circlet that gleamed against the fair-skin of her forehead. 

The girl seemed more intent about the crowd over the main event. Her copper eyes swept across the room and she says something that seems to gather Prince Luka’s attention. The two whispers between themselves until the second lady interrupts them both by putting her hand on their shoulders. She leans in and whispers something. When she stood back upright, Marinette was able to get a better look at her face. 

She is much older than the two and bore a strong resemblance to Prince Luka, particularly in the electric blue color of her eyes. She wore a cape of sheer-shimmering fabric over her deep blue gown. The gown itself, much like the younger girl’s, was cinched at the waist by a leather corset that accentuated the low cut of her dress. Her silver hair flowed freely past her waist, and a silver crown that resembled waves sat atop her head. Yet the boldest part of her outfit was the cutlass that hung at her waist. The weapon of war surely must have not escaped King Gabriel’s gaze.

If Marinette had been a Riorian, perhaps she would have been a bit more scandalized by the outfit. Yet judging by the way the older woman carried herself, someone Marinette guessed was the Queen of Stildore and Luka’s mother, caring for a scandal she may or may cause is perhaps the least of her worries. The woman exudes confidence and courage. Marinette remembers Luka speaking of how his mother had transformed Stildore’s economy in only a matter of years. And when she sat in on her father’s court meetings, there had been talk of trading opportunities in the south. Could they have been referencing Stildore?

The great power had always been Riory to the West, expanding and absorbing kingdoms under it. Perhaps Stildore was rising to the test and building a vast kingdom themselves. It seemed unlikely, however, that they would achieve Riory’s fame and glory. After all, Riory had centuries of strong leaders behind it as well as a powerful army and the holiest city, Aispr, as its capital. 

“Princess Marinette!” Prince Adrien’s voice halts her train of thought. 

The Queen of Stildore is smirking at Marinette, amused. A flush creeps up her face and across her cheeks. “H-huh?!” She sputters as she whips around to look at Prince Adrien. 

“Your speech?” He says quietly. 

“My…?” realization dawns across Marinette’s face as she realizes that she had spaced out for not only the rest of King Gabriel’s speech but the entirety of Prince Adrien’s and who knows how long they had been standing around for Marinette’s speech.

“I….uh…” she says very intelligently. Prince Adrien places a comforting hand on her wrist and Marinette tries to calm the beating of her heart. 

All at once, the same feeling of calm from the dance floor washes over her, albeit weaker than when she was on the actual dance floor. Her master’s voice rings in her head, countless magic lessons in her mind. She takes the calming magic into her mind and with a deep breath, one that fills her lungs and opens her chest. She can feel her panic subside for now.

Drawing a dazzling smile to her lips, Marinette speaks. “Pardon me. This all here seems like a dream. I can recount numerous memories of mine as a child spent in this ballroom and spent playing in the hallways of this castle with Prince Adrien. It’s quite surreal to think that in three short years, Riory should take me as its Queen,” she presses a hand to her chest and tilts her head sweetly. “It’s a daunting role to fill, especially considering the magnificence of the late Queen Emilie, but it is a role I should hope to fill with dignity and grace,” Marinette says, furrowing her brows with sentiment. 

She takes another deep breath, keeping a hand on her chest. “I would like to thank not only King Gabriel and Prince Adrien for welcoming me with kind and open arms, but also to the people of Riory who have always kept their minds open for me. I could ask not for a greater treasure,” Marinette raises her glass of champagne and looks across the crowd as they mimic her motion. 

“To Riory and Chimorly! May our two kingdoms forever be united in the grace and the favor of the gods. May our hearts be full of understanding and love and may the good earth provides bountiful harvests for the nourishment and care for all. To Prince Adrien, Queen Emilie, and King Gabriel. And to the gods!  _ Ojivai _ !” She proclaimed as the crowd repeated after her and applauded. Marinette bowed gracefully as all attention is turned back to King Gabriel, who thanks the crowd once more and releases them all back to the festivities. 

Marinette is about to race down to join her parents before King Gabriel calls out to her. “Marinette,” his voice is steely and sends shivers down her spine. She straightens and turns to him. He’s not facing her yet. His eyes are on the crowd and his brow twitches in the slightest sign of distaste. There’s a moment of silence before he finally turns to look at her. 

“Yes, my king?” She asks, trying to seem as composed as possible. 

His indigo eyes bore into her. “Remember where your loyalties lie,” King Gabriel’s voice holds a cold edge to it. Marinette stiffens and ducks her head. King Gabriel turns from her back to the crowd.

“Yes, my king,” she says quietly. She has to remind herself that ever since her father agreed to have her betrothed to Prince Adrien in her childhood, she then on belonged to Riory and not Chimorly. “If you’ll pardon me, my King,” she curtsies to King Gabriel. “I wish to greet my parents.”

King Gabriel is silent again. His expression is unreadable but Marinette knows that she has passed one too many lines tonight. King Gabriel’s precious porcelain doll was cracking. “You are pardoned,” he says and Marinette wonders if it means more. Nevertheless, she bows graciously to him. 

Wordlessly, she descends the staircase, head held high but fighting away the tears that pricked her eyes. She can’t allow herself to cry. She can’t allow the people of Riory and every foreign noble here see her cry. It would be ungracious. It would be weak. It would be unfit for a queen of Riory. 

Taking a few calming breaths, she passed on her glass of champagne to a nearby waiter and centers herself. Alcohol would do her no good. She was never quite the fan, either way, but King Gabriel insisted upon it. After all, every good royal had to have proper wine etiquette. At least, that’s what King Gabriel had established. Her father and mother were never ones for such high-class traditions.

Marinette’s eyes scan the room for her parents. She hadn’t been allowed to travel with her father as a precaution. Marinette managed to convince her mother to travel with her father, reassuring them that Tikki was more than enough company for her voyage west. After all, she knew how prone to loneliness her father was. He needed his queen to keep him grounded.

Marinette lights up once she finally spots the back of her father’s head and makes her way over. She is pleasantly surprised to see that her father had struck up a conversation with the Stildorian royalty. In fact, it had surprised her that her father had struck up a conversation with anyone in general. While King Tom was known to his people to be kind-hearted and warm, other kingdoms looked down on Chimorly for being an agriculturally-based kingdom. The Kingdom of Edreg, ruled by the Bourgeois family, was particularly known for constantly singling out Chimorly. Tradition has it that the heir to the Rioric throne marry those typically of Edregin descent, but King Gabriel had nor only violated tradition himself by marrying Queen Emilie, who was also from Riory, but by bethrothing Prince Adrien to Marinette. 

Marinette’s lineage was often also placed under intense scrutiny, being that her mother originated from lands further east. Many people of the Rioric court saw her unfit as a bride for Prince Adrien. Truth be told, Marinette herself didn’t quite understand why King Gabriel is so insistent on Prince Adrien marrying her, as the talks and conditions were all dealt with behind closed doors when she was only a child. Regardless, the prospect of ruling a kingdom as large as Riory was daunting, yet something she had to do for the people of Chimorly. Besides, she’ll have Prince Adrien as her king to be by her side. Nothing could go wrong if he were around. 

“Princess Marinette?” a soft voice draws her from her daydream and Marinette finds herself staring into the magnetic blue eyes of Prince Luka.

  
  


The small curve of his lips, one that Marinette finds herself discovering was Prince Luka’s trademark, told Marinette that another charismatic comment was on the horizon. A flush spread across her cheeks not only at how she has been caught spacing out but also over the fact that she had only had one conversation with Prince Luka and yet she was able to pick up such nuanced things. 

“You seem to be a bit lost. Would you like an escort to the dance floor again?’ He asks with a quirked brow. 

Marinette holds out the skirt of her dress and playfully preens. “Prince Luka. With all due respect, I’ve run these halls for longer than you could imagine. I can find my way around. Besides, I’m actually on my way to greet my parents, King Tom and Queen Sabine of Chimorly,” she says back, nose held high and a smile gracing her lips. 

“What a coincidence,” Prince Luka straightens and looks back with a pretentious gaze in the direction of the two royals he had just been. The smirk is out of character but Marinette doesn’t mind. “It seems my mother, Queen Anarka of Stildore, is striking a conversation. Shall we join them?” Luka asks.

Marinette hums in exaggerated thought. She taps her finger to her lips and looks towards the ceiling of the ballroom before nodding. “We shall,” she giggles. Marinette hikes the other end of her skirt as she poshly walks towards her parents. Her father seems to be engrossed in conversation with Queen Anarka but truthfully, Marinette is just as engrossed with Prince Luka at her side. 

After a moment, they both break out of their posh personas and into a fit of giggles. “You know, you’re a funny girl, Princess Marinette,” Prince Luka says, covering his lips with his hands in a pathetic attempt to stifle his giggles. Marinette smiles coyly at him can only manage to shake her head, not trusting her words. It seems Prince Luka wants to comment but her father is already calling to her the closer they get. 

“Marinette, my dear daughter!” King Tom exclaims.

“Father,” Marinette curtsies to all three royals before stepping aside so Prince Luka can do the same. “I’m so sorry it took so long to come and greet you. I’ve been...busy,” Marinette says with the beginnings of a blush. 

“Ho, ho! Busy dancing with my Luka, yes?” Queen Anarka pats Marinette’s shoulder and she stares up at the Queen with mild shock but manages a smile. “I saw you out there, my girl! Quite the spirit you have! And a fascinating speech as well, darling. A true leader,” she nods approvingly. There’s pride in King Tom’s eyes and Marinette smiles at him. 

Queen Anarka is rather blunt, it seems, and Marinette can feel herself squirm with awkwardness at the Queen’s brazen personality. She doesn’t want to do or say anything that will offend the queen, but she also isn’t sure that being so hands-on with the Queen is also allowed by King Gabriel. His words ring in her head but before she can spiral into another panic, her panic vanishes and her mind becomes clear again. Just like a blanket of calm. 

Marinette furrows her brows and looks around. Her eyes land on the girl dressed in dark colors, standing a few feet behind Queen Anarka and her brows furrow. Then, her mind is focused back on Queen Anarka’s question.

“The music was very captivating and quite fun to dance to. I must say, Stildore has quite piqued my interest,” she admits.

“Then you should come around during our Week of Feast! Stildorian culture is experienced quite like no other time then!” Queen Anarka offers with a proud, fearless smile. She then turns to Marinette’s parents. “You, King Tom and Queen Sabine, are invited as well, of course,” she beams.

“Why thank you, Queen Anarka. It’s a tempting offer we might just take up,” Queen Sabine says with a hand on her chest and a slight tilt of her head. 

“Now what were we talking about? Ah! Yes! Quality boards for making Chimarlic bread! Continue,” Queen Anarka flourishes her hand. 

“Oh right! The best bark for the breadboards is found in Lobra! The prink Sprucedeer,” King Tom starts up again and Marinette tries to find a way to exit the conversation before she’s dragged into a conversation about bread. Because even if she does love baking, if she has to hear about her father’s desire for more imports of Sprucedeer or Kiqu yeast, she might lose her mind.

“Princess Marinette?” Prince Luka sweeps in as a saving grace. “I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Princess Juleka Couffaine of Stildore,” he motions for the dark-dressed girl to join them. She hesitates but walks over, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. “Juleka, this is Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of Stildore,” he introduces the two.

“Greetings, Princess Marinette. It’s an honor to meet you,” Princess Juleka says in a low, nervous voice before curtsying to Marinette. 

Marinette returns the curtsey and giggles. “Please! The honor is all mine! Your dress is lovely,” Marinette motions at the dress as she fawns over it. “The fabric looks amazing in the light and the lacing makes it look elegant!” 

“Oh...uh, your tiara is… beautiful,” Princess Juleka says, shifting her weight back and forth on her feet. There’s a beat of silence and then Princess Juleka looks like she’s trying to say more but is cut off by another voice. The Princess withdraws in silence.

“My Princess,” Prince Adrien suddenly appears beside her, nearly scaring her out of her skin. “I do believe it’s time for you and I to have ourselves a dance or two. Shall we?” Prince Adrien extends his hand to her with only a small glance and nod of acknowledgment to Prince Luka. 

“If you two will excuse. Perhaps we’ll speak later?” Marinette asks, hopefully.

Princess Juleka nods and Prince Luka only keeps his cattish-grin on his lips. “Go enjoy your night, Princess Marinette,” he says. 

With a brief curtsey and greetings to King Tom, Queen Sabine, and Queen Anarka, Adrien leads Marinette away to the dance floor. But for the rest of the night, she can’t help but think of the mysterious, yet charismatic Stildorian Prince she had met that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry y'all! This chapter was mostly set-up but I can promise you that next chapter will toss us right into the swing of things! Love y'all!
> 
> Kudos make my day, comments make them even better <3!
> 
> Follow me on @Allegro/Writes on Twitter for my ramblings and maybe even headcanons. (I'm trying to revive a dead account okay).


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